AJ's Plot Bunny Adoption Center
by AJ Freas
Summary: I'm being attacked by random plot bunnies that I'm going to give you folks a chance to adopt. All I ask in return is that you let me know so I can read your stories and link them back here. Thanks!
1. Luna Dumbledore

**AN:** I'm being attacked by random plot bunnies that I have no idea what to do with. Seriously, if I can't even get a short one-shot out of it, what is the point of keeping the critter? So I am going to give you folks a chance to adopt the little plot bunnies if one of them appeals to you. All I ask in return is that you let me know so I can read it and link your story to the appropriate bunny.

thanks,  
Ajellah

* * *

**Characters:** Luna Lovegood, Albus too-many-names Dumbledore

**Idea:** Luna goes back in time (Marauders or Tom's time, your choice). She is somehow mistaken to be a Dumbledore. Is she sent back to make the future better? Is she sent back to ensure the past doesn't change? See? I haven't a clue why she is in the past, how she got there, but I love the idea of Luna being a Dumbledore. I mean seriously, they're both so... odd.

* * *

"Your abrupt arrival gave us quite the start. Not to worry," Poppy continued, "your injuries are sorted." The room was eerily silent with the exception of the scritching of the quill as it animatedly wrote on the hovering parchment. It had only been thirty minutes ago that there was loud noises: fighting, shouting, explosions. The matron ignored the writing utensil while stowing her wand, "I will need a name for the record."

The young witch canted her head as if not understanding why Madam Pomfrey - who she had known for the past six years - had to ask her such a pedantic question, she should know after all. The lack of recognition caused the blonde to bite her lip momentarily thinking quickly of all the possibilities of what could have caused this lack of memory: wrackspurts, nargles or dabberblimps. The matron asked again, "Your name?"

The girl took a small breath and said, "Luna."

Poppy nodded, utterly unfazed by the dreamy tone, and prompted, "And your surname?"

The infirmary door slid open to show a tall slender man with dancing blue eyes looking over half-moon glasses. Luna gasped, "Dumbledore."

No sooner had the name passed her lips; Luna squealed in excitement and hopped off the hospital bed. The young witch practically flew across the ward and surprised the elderly man by throwing her arms around him to envelope him in a hug. Seeing Albus Dumbledore was a sure sign that she had somehow been thrown into the past. After all, he died last year. Luna whispered softly into his colorful robes, burrowing into his chest feeling safe for the first time in years. "I've missed you."

"I presume you're feeling better?" While his words held humor in them, the headmaster's eyes had widened briefly in surprise at the girl's reaction to his presence. Her trembling form was pulled closer briefly as he patted the young witch on her back. It was a few long moments before Luna pulled back from the embrace without releasing her hold on the elderly man. She raised her blue eyes and met his gaze, willing him to see. Albus blinked in surprise, yet understood immediately. With a silent legilimens, images passed between them quickly. The sights she shared were disturbing and his grip tightened on Luna's shoulders. The old wizard ran patted her cheek in a gentle gesture. "There, there. You're safe now."

When Poppy huffed at the two, Albus gave the matron a small smile and escorted Luna back to the bed. "Come Luna, we mustn't upset Poppy."

The headmaster glanced at the medical notes still hovering beside Poppy - noted the girl's full name listed as 'Luna Dumbledore' - and withheld a chuckle as the blonde hopped back onto the cot. Albus sat on the bed beside Luna, "So tell me, Poppy. Is my great grandniece cleared to leave? We have much to catch up on."


	2. Polyjuice Mix Up

**AN: **My husband came up with this idea and I had to admit, it could be funny, but I'm not all that great at being funny. At least not on purpose.

* * *

**Characters:** Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley

**Idea:** Harry, Hermione and Ron are off to the Ministry to retrieve the locket from Umbridge. Their plan? Use polyjuice potion, highjack three Ministry employees and using their identities infiltrate. The plan is executed, but this is the Golden Trio so naturally things go wrong.

* * *

Their three victims... erm, volunteers... were sleeping soundly. Harry stared down at the man at his feet and sighed softly, "I should feel guilty, but I don't."

"Why should you feel guilty?" Ron asked, "They work for the ministry. We need to get in there. It isn't as if we're killing them and look," he raised the brunette's arm, "this one is a death eater. Why should we feel anything about ruining his life?"

"We aren't trying to ruin anyone's life, Ronald." Hermione countered as she plucked hair from the man's head and added it to a vial of polyjuice potion. She offered the vial to Harry who took it reluctantly. "We're simply borrowing their lives for a bit. We need to get into the ministry, find Umbridge and get that locket. Then these three can have their lives back.

"Help me move her." Hermione grabbed hold of the only woman they had captured and looked up at the boy's expectantly. "Well?"

"Right." Harry helped his best friend and the pair moved the woman away from the two men to give her a bit of privacy seeing how they had to strip them of their clothing.

Ron frowned down at the two men and began removing the blonde man's shoes. "Grow up wearing secondhand clothes, now I get to wear a some stranger's worn out secondhand clothes. Harry, why can't I be the brunette? At least he has a nice leather jacket."

"Fine, Ron. I don't really care which man I am. We just need to get into the ministry."

"Right then," Ron seemed to perk up at that bit of news and immediately began stripping the brunette of his clothing.

"Of course, that means you get to be the Death Eater." Hermione called out from the back as she too was - presumably - stripping her contributor.

"Bloody hell." Ron stared with disgust at the brunette.

Harry simply bit down on his tongue to keep from laughing and helped Ron strip both men of their garments. "So which one then?"

Ron huffed and took over the blonde man's clothing, grumbling the entire time. Harry shook his head and silently dressed in the nice black suit with the leather overcoat as Hermione came out in a brown pinstriped dress suit. Each of the friends held out their vials of polyjuice and clinked as if they were toasting and then took a sip.

Hermione covered her mouth to keep from spewing the potion back out. Harry coughed and Ron gagged before choking out, "I forgot just how vile that is."

Each of the teens held on fast to their vials and braced themselves for the change. Harry clamped his eyes shut due to having to remove his glasses, seeing how the brunette didn't wear any.

"Bloody hell," Ron cried out.

"Oh no. No, no, no! Not again!" Hermione groaned.

Harry opened his eyes and looked at his best friends and frowned. The blonde man was wearing a woman's brown pinstriped dress, barely keeping it from ripping at the seams. While the woman was wearing over-sized ministry worker's clothing. Harry blinked once again and looked at his friends, "What happened?"

Hermione put a hand on her broad hips and wagged a finger at the woman across from her. Her blonde mustache twitching with her ire, "Ronald switched the vials!"

"_I_ did?" Ronald waved his hands in the air and was immediately distracted by the breasts upon his chest, "Bloody hell how do you keep these things under control?"


	3. I Do, Too

**AN:** I love time travel stories. Why? No idea, but I seem to love 'em. This one just kind of popped into my head.

* * *

**Characters:** Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood.

**Idea**: Luna and Neville are about to get married. Luna wants their parents to be at the wedding, but hers are dead and his are… well, not altogether there.

* * *

"What do you have there?"

"Nothing," Luna stated in her usual dreamy fashion as she absentmindedly toyed with some sort of trinket. She was staring off at something out the window that he just couldn't see, but then Luna stared at many things that Neville simply couldn't see… wrackspurts, nargles and moon frogs to name a few.

It had been ten years since Voldemort's downfall, five since Harry's and soon the two would be married, but that wasn't as important to the man at that moment. No, he was adamant about finding out what Luna had in her hands, but more accurately he was _terrified_ to learn what she was toying with.

While the Gryffindor had taken up the recently vacated teaching spot after Pomona Sprout retired, Luna had spent the past eight years in the Department of Mysteries. The Ravenclaw was notorious about bringing her work home.

Neville stepped closer to his intended and peered at her hands. The bauble glinted in the sunlight, but he still couldn't tell what it was. "Luna, what's going on?"

"I'm bored." Her hands paused momentarily as she gave him a sad smile, "I miss the adventures. I miss Harry."

"Sweetheart, that wasn't really about having adventures, it was war time. I think we're better off with a little less excitement."

Luna looked down at her hands and sighed, "Perhaps you're right."

"Besides, the wedding plans still need to be settled."

"I wish our parents could be there."

"I do, too."

"Oh, good," Taking a step closer to professor, the Unspeakable reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him gently as her hands draped around his neck. Neville's eyes closed, his arms wrapped around her narrow waist and somewhere in the back of his mind, he noticed the feel of something being slipped over his head.

"Bloody hell, woman, that was some kiss." Neville reeled feeling a bit dizzy and light on his feet.

Luna giggled and pulled the time turner from around him before stuffing it down her shirt. "Come, let's see when we are."


	4. Time Hopping

**AN:** As I've mentioned several times now, I love time travel stories. This one popped into my head some time ago and I had every intention of writing it some day. I even got my kids involved in the background work and possible scenarios. Elipsa was even on board with writing it with me since it was all supposed to be just a bunch of fun. Then reality sunk in and we both realized we have too much going on and really where were we going to go with the story? That is the biggest problem with my bunnies, funny / interesting possibilities with no where to go.

* * *

**Characters:** Neville Longbottom and Saul Croaker.

**Idea**: Time Hopping: One of the ministry six gets sent back in time while in the Time Room during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. Neville wakes up in jail or the hospital (NOT at Hogwarts). He has to work with Unspeakables to figure out how he can stop his time hopping.

Because of the number of time turners that were broken during the battle at the ministry, Neville will bodily hop from time to time… literally. Random amounts of time as well, such as five minutes to weeks or months. When he is alone, the time hop will be subtle, such as flowers in a vase are different either in color or plant or a book that wasn't on the side table appears or a chair disappears.

* * *

"I ran, okay? I was scared. Wouldn't you be? Don't lie. If you were suddenly surrounded by Death Eaters, you would've been scared too. Bellatrix Lestrange was there. I saw her. As much as I hate her for what she did to my parents, she scares me more than all of them. Hell Malfoy, for all his posturing, isn't half as scary as she is and he was the only person she was listening to. They all did. I think he was in charge."

"What were you doing in the Department of Mysteries?"

"I told you. Harry's godfather was being tortured by You-Know-Who."

"Who is Harry?"

"Seriously? Who is _Harry_? What rock are you living under?"

"Just answer the question."

"Harry Potter."

"…"

"Harry James Potter… the Boy-Who-Lived…"

"There is no such person registered with the ministry. Who else was with you?"

"There's… wait, _what_?"

"As a matter of fact, the only Neville Longbottom we have on file died 4 years ago. Who are you and what were you doing in a restricted area?"

* * *

I must have gone through my story a dozen or more times since I woke up on that hard cot. They had fixed my nose, but my clothes were still bloody. That was the first clue that I wasn't in the infirmary at Hogwart's. There was no way Madam Pomfrey would have left me in soiled clothing and besides I was in a single-bed room not a ward with half of a dozen beds.

The room was very sparse. While it had the expected stone walls, it also had - as I mentioned - a hard cot with a flat pillow and gray scratchy blanket, a single light source and a wooden straight back chair.

No sooner did I sit up, the door opened and two robed men walked in with their hoods up, covering their faces. I suppose they could have been women seeing how I couldn't see them, but they were both rather tall and scary looking. Either way, male or female robed folks, they scared me and I screamed.

Go ahead and laugh. I'll wait.

While I grant you screaming wasn't a very manly thing to do - please keep in mind before you judge me too harshly - the last thing I remembered was running through the Time Room in the Department of Mysteries, fleeing for my life from a bunch of Death Eaters determined to kill me and my friends. At least I didn't soil myself. I'm rather proud of that fact, thank you very much.

Although I hoped word didn't get out that I had screamed. Some Gryffindor I turned out to be, screaming like a girl. I bet Hermione and Ginny didn't scream when they woke up… whenever they were.

Let me backtrack a tad here.

There were six of us that went to the Ministry that evening: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood and me… Neville Longbottom.

Harry - one of my year mates at Hogwarts and Gryffindor - had been getting visions. He managed to save Mr. Weasley with one of them so when he saw his godfather being tortured, we had to act.

The 'High Inquisitor' - note sarcasm - had needed to be distracted... which didn't really turn out well for us. I ended up with a bloody nose, Ginny screeching something about a Bat-Boggey Hex she wanted to use on Malfoy and Luna just muttering about Umgubular Slashkilters - little faeries who apparently wear kilts, hence their names - who held long grudges and were the reason for our capture.

If Luna wanted to blame it on those creatures, then I wouldn't stop her. I mean, come on, Umbridge and Umgubular sounded the same. Ok, not really, but they sounded like something nasty so they should be similar.


	5. Life Debt

**AN:** This is another story I had convinced Elipsa to write with me… until we both gave up on it after writing the prologue and part of the first chapter. Heck I even came up with a summary which I normally do begrudgingly before I post the first chapter.

* * *

**Characters:** Severus Snape and Marauders

**Idea:** Severus died during final battle, but doesn't realize it because it flows into the afterlife. Fate is sending him back to fulfill his life debt.

**Ideas for future chapters:**

Samuel Ethan Prince - new DADA professor

Samuel tries to endanger James (fall down stairs) and tries to save him that way.

Puts Sirius in detention in order to keep him from telling Sev about Remus.

Moves Remus' 'changing room' to C&amp;G Room, causing Sev to go to the wrong place. Ok... maybe not... I just wanted to call the Shrieking Shack Remus' changing room.

Kills James out of frustration knowing he's going to start over again any way.

Every time Severus fails, he restarts the school year.

**Summary:** Severus Snape died before he could repay the life debt that he owed Potter. Fates were not pleased and sent him back to rectify the oversight.

* * *

"Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad."

― Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

**Prologue - Take Them…**

The evening was dragging on: the carnage, the fighting, the death, the incessant need to find that damnable boy…

Voldemort was droning on about the bloody wand - in that nasally, unnatural hiss of his - touting that the thing wasn't working well enough for him. Naturally Severus gave the usual platitudes and reassurances; he was - if nothing else - a survivor. He knew what that insufferable, egotistical, sadistic, self-proclaimed Dark Lord wanted to hear. On and on the snake faced man bleated about ownership, master, resistance, loyalties, blah, blah, blah…

If only that brat had killed the half-man, half-creature already. Then Severus could stop pretending to be something he wasn't. He wasn't a Death Eater, not truly, not any longer, not for many years. His loyalties were to Dumbledore, even when Severus killed the man he was loyal to the bitter end. Granted, the persona that was displayed for all and sundry to see weren't too far off the mark of who the potions master truly was. Severus Snape was a surly man, tall, thin, pale with lanky long black hair, a large hooked nose and crooked yellowed teeth. He just wasn't a dark wizard, he wasn't light either, he was… gray. Dark gray, perhaps, yet gray all the same.

"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master." Voldemort was dragging the conversation out. Typical tact of his, he was always one for the dramatics. "The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner." Snake face was holding the wand up, looking at it as if he had never seen it before. "Ollivander was quite explicit about that." His voice was deceptively calm and Severus began ticking off places to search for Harry. "You killed Dumbledore, Severus. While you live, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine."

Voldemort's words snapped the spy's attention back to the present. Severus' mind reeled. How was he getting out of this situation?

"My Lord…" He wouldn't let the fear that suddenly crawled down his spine to show outwardly. He had to think. There had to be a way to salvage things. Severus held his shoulders back, back straight, even if his head was cowed - ever so slightly - in order to show that self-serving Lord the respect he demanded.

Where was that brat? Severus didn't have time to ease the delusional wizard's cares about a wand and its allegiance. He needed to get to Harry and give him Dumbledore's message before it was too late. The child had to understand, he had to know.

"You have been a good and faithful servant, Severus." Voldemort raised the wand, pointed it at Severus and hissed out, "But only I can live forever…"

It's too late. Severus was out of time. There was no way out for the slippery spy. Voldemort was going to kill him over Dumbledore's wand and there wasn't a bloody thing he could say or do to stop him. All the work Severus had done was for not. Harry wasn't going to receive Dumbledore's message and he was going to fail. Damn.

Voldemort swept his arm downward, turned his attention to Nagini and said one word. That single word turned Severus' blood cold. The snake man hissed, "Kill."

Severus' gaze immediately dropped to the snake. She was striking forward with alacrity that the wizard had no idea the snake possessed. One second the man was thinking of ways out of his current situation and the next he's staring at the open maw of a large deadly snake.

The man was no coward. Severus had faced the Dark Lord on numerous occasions and lied, killed, tortured and been tortured to keep his position as spy believable. He had then in turn gone to Dumbledore giving half truths about his own activities while relaying plans in order to turn the tide of the war. He had been cursed, cut, beaten and punished. Severus took each act as a man facing death, but facing those venom dripping fangs…

Severus screamed out in fear.

He wasn't sure when exactly he had ended up on the floor, but he couldn't move. He couldn't scream anymore. He felt cold and the room grew dim. Voldemort's voice was filled with satisfaction and determination, "Nagini! Come!" But the voice was so far off in a haze that Severus couldn't manage to see through.

Unbidden tears welled in his eyes and his thoughts turned to his one-time friend. Lily. His time was coming to an end and he failed her. Again.

"Professor!"

Severus' eyes snapped towards the voice, but his body initially refused to cooperate. Harry. Harry Potter was there. The potions master raised his hand and gripped the front of the boy's shirt. Why was Harry there? Didn't the boy know Voldemort was around? Didn't Harry know that he was in danger?

How could the boy know? Severus hadn't given him the message. Lamb to the slaughter.

Harry: the boy that could have been his son, the boy that looked so much like his blasted father, the boy that had Lily's eyes. The tear that he had held back by pure stubbornness slipped his hold as one single tear slid effortlessly down his battle worn face. Harry pressed his hand to the gaping wound left by that damnable snake in an attempt to save Severus' life. Only the potions master didn't want to be saved. He was tired. He had outlived his usefulness and he could finally give Dumbledore's message to Harry. Then he could rest.

Severus opened his mouth to speak and, for the first time since his fifth year at Hogwarts, words failed him.

How to give the boy the message? Severus had to relay the message in order to rest. His mind reeled with possibilities and only one managed to have the appearance of being feasible. Severus thought of everything that the boy needed to know. Everything. The man held nothing back and finally said, "Take them…"

Harry looked confused and hesitated. He gaped at his professor and shook his head, refusing to let go of the man. Severus tried again, "Take… them…"

Severus could feel his magic well up and the memories that he wanted to give to Harry fled him along with the tears. Time was slipping away and the boy had to know before it was too late. It pained him to say it, but the word was forced between his lips, "Please."

Understanding dawned in those emerald eyes, so much like Lily that it physically hurt Severus to look into them, yet he couldn't manage to look away. Harry called out, "Give me something! Quickly! A flask! Anything."

He understood. Severus' grip slackened and his hand fell away along with what little strength he had left. Something cold was pressed to his cheek and Severus found he simply didn't have the energy to turn away or avert his eyes. Words spilled unbidden along with the tears and memories, "They are the same…" Oh how much he loved and hated that woman with dancing emerald eyes. Severus tried and failed to reach for the boy, "You have your mother's eyes…"

The potions master didn't know how long he laid there on the cold wooden floor, broken and forgotten. He had heard the taunt from Voldemort followed by a length of quiet. Then the war raged on. The explosions, the cries of pain and fright, it all sounded so far away.

Somehow Severus found the energy to push himself to stand up. His body staggered against a wall and he trekked outside. Did the boy not watch the memories? Did he go to Voldemort? Did he allow himself to be killed?

Severus needed answers. Apparently rest was eluding him yet again.

Slowly the man made his way forward, up the many steps of the boathouse and found his way outside amongst the battling sides, yet none paid him any attention. Colors were muted, sound was distant yet he walked amongst those that fought. Nagini's poison must have had an unexpected effect, but Severus didn't have the luxury of time to research the meaning.

The Weasley boy ran past him in slow sluggish movements followed closely by the bushy haired know it all. Hermione twisted backwards and sent a spell behind her that Severus realized he could track with his eyes as it shot out in a white sparkle of deadly light. The professor, or more accurately, headmaster stood and watched as stone shattered throwing piercing bits into her pursuers. Had she aimed it a single opponent that man would have certainly sported a gaping hole in his torso, but by aiming at the ground before them she managed to stop all three as they writhed in pain.

An odd, warm surge of unexpected pride flowed through him as he silently watched his student destroy her enemies.

Severus made his way around the odd skirmishes, past rampaging werewolves and off to witness something he had never thought to see in his lifetime. Harry Potter stood over the dead body of Voldemort.

Noise stopped. Movement stopped. Severus stood at the boy's side and everything around them faded. The boy spoke softly, words none other were meant to hear, but Severus heard him surprisingly clearly, "We did it."

Harry wasn't looking at him when he spoke. Severus wasn't sure the boy even knew he stood there. Voldemort's body faded away as did the teen, leaving Severus in an empty courtyard.

Wrapping his robe tighter around his slender body, Severus wandered the school grounds and soon stood under the birch tree in front of the Black Lake. He loved that tree. He hated some of the memories that came with that favored spot, but it was usually serene and a great place to contemplate life.

"I always loved this tree. I would sit here for hours, staring out across the lake wondering what life had in store for me."

Severus spun around at the sound of her voice, but no one was there. His heart leapt into his throat as he forced the word from his lips, "Mother?"

"Hello, Severus."

His mother suddenly stood at his side and the man nearly leapt in surprise. Not that he'd ever admit to it. "Ah, so I did die."

"Yes." Eileen looked young, a woman in her thirties, but she didn't look sickly. She had long black silken hair that draped around her slender shoulders and bright alert black eyes that danced with amusement. Gone were the dark circles under her eyes, the scars that she hid under turtle neck blouses and long sleeves. Eileen wore a clean frock that was sleeveless, opened at the neck with a floral pattern and came down to her calves. If that wasn't shocking enough, the woman was barefoot and smiling up at her son. "I've missed you, son. I have watched you over the years and I'm proud of you."

Something hitched in his chest and warmth once again spread through him. How different would life had been if she had just lived? Married a different man? Hadn't been disowned by her family? Water under the bridge, but the curiosity was still there. "I…"

Words once again failed him, but she had a gleam of understanding in her eyes. Eileen turned towards the lake and walked to the water's edge. "You aren't finished."

"I beg your pardon?" Severus stiffened at her words. Not finished? That's preposterous. Harry won. Voldemort was defeated. "In what way - pray tell - am I not finished?"

"Your life debt to that Potter boy," Eileen stated, "It was not repaid."

The woman may be his mother, but her words… outrageous! How could she believe he hadn't fulfilled his duty? Severus refused to be denied his well-earned rest. "I saved the boy's life numerous times!"

"You made an oath, Severus." Eileen turned back to her son and gave him a sad smile, "You have to go back and fulfill it. The Fates demand it."

* * *

"Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself."

― George Bernard Shaw

**Mr. Prince, I Presume?**

Small things began to seep through his muddled mind: sounds, smells, sights were no longer muted or missing. The colors around the lake were suddenly quite vivid: the grass was a deep green, the sky was a clear blue with white fluffy clouds dotting the heavens, the forest was dark and forbidding and the lake was calm and smooth as black glass.

A breeze teased at the man's black locks as it whipped gently around his head. Severus closed his eyes and allowed his other senses to take in his surroundings. Birds chirped in the distance, somewhere a hound barked and if he listened close enough, he could hear his steady breathing.

He inhaled deeply and noted the different scents: the algae from the water's edge, the fresh grass and a musky cologne he hadn't remembered putting on that morning.

Severus looked around in confusion. Why had everything changed? And that was when he noted one last bit of important information. His mother was no longer standing beside him. Had he imagined that whole episode with his mother? Not likely, but he had been poisoned by that bloody snake. Anything was possible with magic after all.

The potions master stuffed his hands in his pockets and frowned. Since when did he place his hands in his pockets and what the hell did he have in said pockets? Severus glanced down at this attire. He wore a black suit, white crisp button down oxford shirt, a wide black tie, black dragon hide boots and an open black robe. While the ensemble was stylish enough, he came to a few realizations: not only did he not own a suit, it was rather soft meaning the quality of the fabric was quite pricey and that wasn't what he was wearing during the battle.

He didn't have time to further contemplate his change in attire as footsteps were heading in his direction. Severus immediately reached for his wand and pointed in the direction that the voice sounded with a curse on the tip of his tongue only to find, to his utter surprise, Albus Bloody Dumbledore standing with his hands raised in a non-threatening fashion. "Mr. Prince, I presume?"

Severus blinked.

Albus held his arms out to his side, not quite lowering them fully, and spoke softly as if to a frightened colt, "I apologize if I startled you. Are you Samuel Prince, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

The armed man held back his usual vitriol response, lowered his wand and took a calming breath. Bloody Albus and his patronizing ways for the Greater Good. Bloody Fates and their idea of fairness, sending him back to fulfill his damnable life debt. His mother's words came back to him in a rush, 'You will be my brother and work at Hogwarts in order to guide your younger self.'

Severus gave the blasted man what he had hoped was an amused smile, not a grimace, and nodded sharply, "I am Samuel Ethan Prince and you are Albus too-many-bloody-names Dumbledore, Headmaster to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"One and the same," Albus grinned widely with his blue eyes sparkling in amusement. "I hadn't expected you'd make it beyond the gate. I will have to look into the wards." When Severus didn't offer any further information on how exactly he managed to enter the school grounds, the headmaster continued, "Or you're simply that good at your job and I should have you look into any flaws in our wards."

Severus stowed his wand and once more stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets. That time it was to keep himself from rubbing at his neck. He didn't want to look nervous in front of the headmaster. First impressions and all that muck.

The sparkle in Albus' eyes dimmed slightly as he realized the man wasn't about to give up his secret and gave a small sigh of resignation, "Shall we adjourn to the castle? I will introduce you to the rest of the staff. You're just in time for dinner."

"Thank you," Severus said and fell into step beside his one time mentor.

The two walked towards the castle in a comfortable silence. Albus walked with his hands clasped behind his back and Severus allowed his left hand to drift towards his neck. The buttoned collar didn't allow his questing fingers to feel his skin, smooth or scarred, it was hidden behind starched material.

Severus was taking stock of his situation. In order to reach his final rest he had to pay back the life debt owed to James Potter. On the other hand, he had knowledge of what was coming and could possibly put a stop to the debt in the first place. He was sent back to his fifth year in school. He could stop the life debt and in the meantime, he was to teach DADA to a bunch of dunderheads.

A small smile tugged at him. He could do that. Alleviate the need for a life debt. All he had to do was keep his younger self from going near the Whomping Willow. Younger self doesn't go to the tree, doesn't get saved by Potter and **BAM**, life debt gone. Eternal rest ensues.

The new DADA professor blinked as he realized, belatedly, that the headmaster had been speaking to him and promptly tuned back into what was being said, "…going out soon. Your list of required reading material is included. I must say your curriculum is surprisingly… progressive."

It was? Bloody hell. Let's hope there was a copy of said curriculum for him to read over. Albus was no longer speaking, perhaps awaiting input from Severus. Seeing as he had no idea what the syllabus contained, the new professor was at a loss of what to say. When in doubt, question the other person, "In what way do you find it… progressive?"

"The students are only children, Mr. Prince. They are young, _impressionable_ children."

"There is a war beyond those gates, headmaster. You would have the students go out into the world unprepared?"

"Of course not," Albus frowned, but carried on. "Yet they deserve a childhood, do they not?"

"The young ones, perhaps." Severus shot the man a disapproving glance, "Those in the upper years do not have the luxury of time."

"It is not our place to decide when they should grow up-"

"It is our responsibility to prepare them."

"It is the parents' responsibility-"

"Parents tend to shield their children from the harsh realities of life." Severus sighed, "We would be neglecting their well being if we did the same."

"But teaching them Dark Arts-"

"I will be teaching them to recognize the Dark Arts and how to defend against them. That is not the same thing."

"Hmmm, I'm unsure if they are prepared for the harsh facts of real life." Albus wasn't entirely convinced - if the lack of sparkling eyes was any indication, not to mention the thin straight line of his lips. "Then there is the patronus charm." The two had reached the front doors of the castle and Albus paused with his hand on the handle. "Many adults cannot produce a fully corporeal patronus and yet you believe fifth years can?"

"Those that can, will. Those that cannot, will not." Severus faced the elderly wizard, "I will not make it mandatory that they produce a corporeal patronus, but I will require them to attempt one."

Albus pulled the door opened and gestured for Severus to enter first, "I suppose that isn't asking too much of them."

"Set standards high and we have brilliant students," Severus looked around the familiar entrance hall and mentally braced himself for what was behind the great hall doors. The two entered the double doors and Severus felt his heart skip a beat. The great hall was as it always had been: large, brightly lit with four long tables and a head table. "Set standards low and we do the students a disservice. They will be mediocre, complacent students with low expectations for themselves." The two came to a stop and Severus focused on the headmaster, "While it is the parents responsibility to teach their children morals and their ideals, it is our responsibility as educators to see to their education and safety. I am unwilling to allow my students to enter a world ignorant of the dangers that await them."

"Well said," Minerva said. Severus' head snapped in her direction - having forgotten that he was no longer alone with Albus and was now faced with the full Hogwarts staff - and she gave him a small nod, "Welcome to Hogwarts."


	6. Two Peas in a Pod

**Characters:** Harry Potter and Viktor Krum

**Idea:** It's Tri-wizard Tournament time. Viktor and Harry have more in common than they realize: champions, celebrities, seekers and gay. Yup, just a hint of one of my favorite things. **Slash!** Anyhow, the key here is they become friends (more if you're so inclined), but they have to go to the ball with girls. It just sounds like fun to me.

* * *

**Two Peas in a Pod**

He had watched him fly at the World Cup and admired his moves, but to go one on one with him there at the pitch at Hogwarts, just two seekers battling over a snitch, was nothing short of… orgasmic. Harry blushed as that thought - along with naughty mental images - flitted in his mind before heading into a dive after the small golden ball, wings fluttering madly and zig zagging to and fro in order to escape the two teens on its tail.

Harry could feel Viktor beside him. He didn't even have to turn his head to look at the other seeker to know he was there, the body heat coming from the man's thigh flush against his own was… well… exhilarating.

Viktor bumped him and Harry laughed as he bumped right back. The two seekers pulled out of the dive and skimmed across the grass before simultaneously banking left. It was as if they had choreographed their movements.

Their game went on for some time. They'd lost sight of the golden ball and had to start the hunt over until finally the pair was off on a merry chase once again. Harry was concentrating so hard on the snitch and his opponent, that all other things were secondary. He could feel eyes on him, but figured it was Viktor keeping tabs on him.

The snitch was heading straight for the rings, Harry and Viktor in pursuit. Viktor went over the rings while Harry went through the center. The golden ball snapped upwards and Harry pulled back on his broom to follow, but Viktor was half a length ahead.

Harry cursed brilliantly and lowered his body towards his broom in hopes of picking up speed. He pushed his Firebolt to its extremes, but it was too little, too late. Viktor's large hand snatched the dancing ball from the air and all Harry could do was groan in despair.

The two champions were grinning by the time they landed on the pitch. The applause from the stands grabbed their attention and Harry waved at his friends, while Viktor gave his a nod. Harry looked up at the young man, "That was loads of fun! Not that I thought I had a chance to win. Thanks for humoring me with a game."

"It vas my pleasure. You are good seeker," Viktor said sincerely.

"Nah, I'm okay. You… you're good." Harry canted his head and corrected himself, "Well great, really."

Harry blushed and looked away quickly to hide his grimace. He couldn't believe he was gushing so blatantly obvious, he sounded like a bloody fan girl. Harry couldn't look at the other champion, tightening his grip on his broom and mentally berating himself.

As he walked beside the smaller teen, Viktor shot a glance up towards the stands and spoke to his new friend in low tones, "Remember bet, Hahrry. You find friend to go vith me to ball."

"That's easy."

"No fan girl. Ve go just as friends. Da?"

"Sure," Harry responded. His mind quickly went down a mental list of prospective females and snapped his fingers as the perfect name came to him. Harry opened the locker room door and held it to let Viktor enter firs, "Hermione Granger. She'll be the perfect date for you. She's my best friend. So she's obviously accustomed to being around someone that others view as a celebrity. She isn't overly fond of quidditch even if she'll go to our games to cheer us on."

Harry closed the door behind them, but Viktor paused and looked troubled. The Gryffindor canted his head, grabbed his wand to lock and ward the door for privacy. "What's wrong?"

The Bulgarian seeker sighed heavily, "I do not like…"

"The fan girls?" Harry supplied, "Me either. You can't date any of them. It's hard to even be friends with anyone. Do they see you for you or do they just see the public image? And girls are… well…"

"Da," Viktor nodded quickly, "Soft. I don't like soft: soft in body, soft in head. I vant hard muscles and brains. Not too much to ask, no?"

Harry's heart raced at Viktor's description of the perfect date. "I understand."


	7. Getting Sirius

**Getting Sirius**

**Characters:** Harry Potter, Sirius Black, Aberforth Dumbledore

**Idea:** It's the summer before Harry's third year after the 'blow up' with Aunt Marge. He isn't simply startled by the black dog, he's befriended by him and taken to Hogsmeade to meet Aberforth and his new destiny.

* * *

Harry Potter was frustrated beyond belief with his 'family' and stormed out of the house on Privet Drive with trunk and owl cage in tow. Grumbling under his breath about stupid 'aunts' and their stupid dogs; stupid uncles that don't know how to keep their cow sisters quiet; aunts that treat their nephews like a house elf and cousins that may as well be pigs with wigs.

By the time his tirade was through, Harry looked around to gain his bearings. It was a dark June night after a bit of a storm. The ground was wet, the trees dripped huge cold drops of rain and the sky was still filled with storm clouds. The only true lighting in the area was the full moon sparkling down at him through the clouds.

He was standing three blocks away from the Dursley house, in front of the small park where Dudley enjoyed a rousing game of Harry Hunting when they were in grade school. Worse of all, Harry stood alone. In the dark. The only sound was the squeak of a broken swing swaying in the breeze.

Setting his trunk down, Harry placed his owl's empty cage on top before sitting alongside of it. While he wasn't allowed to perform any magic out of school, seeing how he was quite under aged, Harry simply felt safer with his wand in his hand. The warmth of the eleven inches of holy kept his fear tamped down.

He had options. Not many, but there had to be something he could do, somewhere he could go… other than back to that blasted house with those stupid Dursleys and their bloated, floating Marge…

Harry sighed softly and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and rolled his wand between his fingers, "I really screwed up this time."

There was a soft snuffling sound that caught the wizard off guard. Harry gasped loudly and tumbled off his trunk, onto his backside on the sidewalk. "Ow."

He looked around to see what had made the noise just in time to come face to face with a very large black dog. Harry scrambled backwards, "Whoa."

The dog simply canted his head, flopping his ears around as it moved, giving Harry a confused look. Harry began chuckling at his own reaction to meeting the pooch. The dog cautiously moved forward, ears down, tail down and gave the boy a curious sniff. Harry held out his hand, palm open and grinned at the dog. "You're nothing like Ripper. You're just curious and by the look of you, you're a stray. Poor thing, you must be hungry."

A small woof of agreement had Harry looking in his trunk as he spoke to the black dog, "Well you're in a bit of luck. I still have some treats from the care package that Hermione sent me. Seeing how the Weasleys are off to Egypt this summer, Mrs. Weasley wasn't around to make my usual care package. She always adds some stasis charm to keep things fresh longer. Hermione cant, seeing how she's a muggleborn and can't… Ah here it is… she can't do magic. Her food won't last too long. Which is why she sent me these dried things: like jerky and fruit."

Harry closed his trunk, sat on the lid again and opened the ziplock bag. "I'm guessing you don't want the fruit, so we'll go with the jerky."

The dog happily ate the meat, licking his lips and then proceeding to lick Harry's fingers as he was fed a few more strips. Harry chuckled at the dog and sighed softly while scratching the pooch around the ears. "I could go to the Leaky Cauldron and stay there."

Once again the dog looked at the boy, only that time he huffed, or sneezed, Harry wasn't sure, but the dog shook his head as if it disagreed. "Not the Leaky?"

The dog again huffed and shook his head. "Fine, where to then? I suppose if I had a way to get there I could go to Hogsmeade. I heard there are two pubs there."

Woofing his agreement, the dog practically bounced happily. "You're not a normal dog. You understand just a bit too well to be ordinary. There's something special about you…"

The dog gave a soft bark.

"All right, if you're so smart… how do we get to Hogsmeade?"

The black dog sat and stared at Harry, as if he were contemplating their options. Harry grinned thinking he outsmarted the canine, but the dog hopped up and grabbed his sleeve tugging him towards the street.

"You expect us to walk all the way to Scotland? And you said you were smart." Harry teased, but soon there came bright lights and a loud bang.

Harry once again landed on his backside on the sidewalk. This time he sat looking up at a purple triple decker bus with gold letters declaring it the Knight Bus. Harry quickly put his wand away and scrambled to his feet.

A skinny young man with a spotted face, wearing a uniform stepped out of the bus reading a card, "Welcome to the Knight Bus. Emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this evening. Well, where to?"

"Hogsmeade."

"You takin' the dog?"

"I am."

"Well, come on then. Let's not wait for the grass to grow."

Stan and Harry pulled his trunk and cage onto the bus, followed promptly by the big black dog. They set the trunk down and Harry looked around at all the beds available. The young wizard frowned in confusion since all the buses he had ever seen contained bench seating. Then again, the Knight Bus was magical. Anything could happen with a magical bus.

"Take it away, Ernie." Stan stood beside the bed Harry sat down on and the dog hopped up onto. The conductor immediately returned to business. "That will be eleven sickles; thirteen buys a cup of hot chocolate; fifteen gets you a hot water bottle and a toothbrush in any color."

Harry pitched forward as the bus took off towards its next destination. Swerving through traffic caused the beds within the bus to lurch and sway. Harry decided against the hot chocolate and pulled out eleven sickles to pay for the ride.

The two new companions relaxed as much as humanly possible on the crazy ride through the country. The big black dog rested at the foot of the bed, his head sat on his paws while his ears perked at any new sounds that caught his attention.

A man three beds away snorted and rolled over, mumbling about something incomprehensible. Stan sat back in a chair reading a newspaper. Ernie hummed and bounced along in his seat as he drove. Harry was so mesmerized by the flashing scenery that he wasn't able to rest. His adrenaline was pumping as he gripped the headboard and stared at the night sky, passing houses and random cars that they met on the roads.

When the scenery outside became mostly dark, Harry noticed the lead story of Stan's copy of the _Daily Prophet_: ESCAPE FROM AZKABAN! Below the headline was a photograph showing a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair that glared and howled in angry fits.

"Who is that?" Harry asked what he thought to be an innocent question. The dog raised his head and stared at his new companion.

"Who is that? That's Sirius Black, that is. Don' tell me you ne'er been hearin' o' Sirius Black?" Stan looked at the teen in shock, but the dog got a look at what the two were talking about and growled low.

Harry shook his head, still staring at the man's face in the picture, reached over and began scratching the dog's ears to calm him. Stan folded the paper and pointed at the photo as he spoke to impress how important his words were. He leaned forward and spoke in hushed tones, "A murderer, he is. Got 'imself locked up in Azkaban for it."

"How'd he escape?"

Stan sat up at that and huffed, "Tha's the question, isn't it? He's the firs' that's done it. Gives me the collywobbles thinking he's out there, though, I'll tell you that. Big supporter of You-Know-'Oo, Black was. Reckon you heard o' him."

Harry nodded and sighed, "Yeah. Him I've heard of."

The dog licked Harry's hand with a soft whine, nudging his nose into the boy's palm. Harry gave the dog a small smile and began scratching at his ears again.

Harry didn't know how long it took for them to get to Hogsmeade, but it was a much faster trip than using the train. The bus came to a screeching halt and a loud bang in the middle of the sleepy village. Stan stood and grabbed Harry's trunk announcing, "Hogsmeade."

The dog jumped off the bus behind Stan, soon followed by Harry carrying Hedwig's empty cage. Harry gave Stan a lopsided grin and said, "Thanks."

With a jaunty salute, Stan hopped back onto the bus and just as quick as the purple monstrosity appeared, it disappeared.

Harry looked down at the dog, "Okay then. We're here. Now what?"

The dog woofed softly and circled twice before he began sniffing the ground as if in search of something. Harry sighed when he heard another woof and set out to follow his furry companion, "I can't believe I'm following you."

The two stopped in front of a rather run-down and seedy looking pub. Harry peered at the sign, "Hog's Head?" The boy let out a snort of amusement, "Hogwarts, Hog's Head, Hogsmeade... I think someone was overly fond of pork."

The dog bit Harry's trousers and tugged at it, "Fine. Fine. I'm coming."

Harry picked up the end of his trunk, tugging it along behind him and opened the door. The inside of the pub wasn't much lighter than outside, making the boy's eyes adjust quickly as the door clicked shut behind him. There weren't many patrons, but they all stared at the boy and he suddenly felt very out of place.

If it weren't for the low growl from the dog, Harry was pretty sure he'd be in a heap of trouble. As it stood, the bartender rounded the end of the bar and grumbled loudly about idiot dogs and their pets.

As the man drew nearer, Harry blinked twice wondering if he was seeing correctly. The man was old with long grey hair and a medium length grey beard. He was tall and broad, but it was the blue eyes that had the teen tongue tied. "Come along you two. Of all the imbecilic moves ya could've made. You had to bring him here?"

Harry tried to apologize, but the man shot him a look that brooked no argument and the wizard found himself rushing to catch up to the old man climbing up the stairs, dragging his trunk behind him. The teen looked at his empty hand wondering when he had lost his grip on the trunk and followed the man into a room.

"I'm guessing you're hungry." The old man growled.

The dog yipped and Harry shook his head in denial even as his stomach growled. The bartender huffed, "That's what I thought. Stay here. Don't open the door for anyone. I'll be right back." The elderly man pointed a finger at the dog, "Sit. Don't make a mess."

Before the door could close, the dog huffed and sat. Harry frowned and sat as well, "So you belong to the old man? You just had me bring you home then?"

The room the pair was left in was better lit than the common room downstairs by a fire burning gently in a fireplace and candles lit on the table and a nightstand. There was a large bed at one end, a door open to the right to a bathroom and a table with two chairs for meal times where Harry now sat. The dog rested his head on Harry's knee. The boy scratched the dog behind his ears, "It's okay, boy. I understand wanting to be where you belong.

A few minutes later, the elderly man returned with a tray floating behind him with two bowls of steaming stew, two dusty bottles of butterbeer and a plate with thick bread slices with melted butter. "Thank you, sir."

Harry found it difficult not to stare at the elderly man. He just looked so familiar, but the boy couldn't put his finger on where he'd seen him before. The old man snorted, "Name is Aberforth, but most call me Abe. Only my brother gets called 'sir'."

Aberforth set the tray on the table; set out both bowls along with the plate of buttered bread and plunked down the two bottles. He glared at the dog, "Well? What are you waiting for?"

The dog whimpered and shot a glance at Harry and Aberforth sighed heavily, "Damnable fool."

Pulling his wand from his sleeve, Aberforth ignored when Harry tensed at the table and tapped the door frame. Harry felt a sudden wave of magic, warm and safe flow across the room before the old man conjured a third chair and sat down. "Get on with it."

Harry blinked at Aberforth in confusion and nearly choked out a scream when the dog suddenly became a man. Not just any man, no… naturally the man had to be a murdering escaped convict… yes, THE murdering escaped convict, Sirius Black.

"Buggering hell, you're him!"

"Now, Harry…" Sirius held out his hands, empty palms facing the boy as he pleaded, "please, I need you to just listen. I was set up. I'm not really a killer and I can prove it!"

"First things first, Black." Aberforth wrinkled his nose. "Bathe. You smell like shite."

Sirius sputtered, "But… I need to make Harry understand… and food… Abe… _food_!"

"Yes, but you stink." Harry fidgeted in his seat, "You smelled better as a dog and that isn't saying much."

The animagus blinked at Harry and barked out a laugh, "Fine! I'll bathe."

He waited until the bathroom door was closed and they could hear the bath water running before asking, "Sir, I don't want to appear ungrateful, but what is going on?"

"That man in there is your godfather." Aberforth sat forward and leaned his forearms on the table, "He was framed for the murders of your parents, Peter Pettigrew and a dozen Muggles."

"And you're certain that he's innocent?"

"Innocent? Not bloody likely," Aberforth chuckled while his blue eyes danced with amusement. Then the old man sighed and glanced at the closed door before continuing, "But he's no traitor. He's no murderer. The question is: How do we prove it?"

"By exposing Pettigrew." The two wizards turned towards the open bathroom door where an underfed Sirius Black stood with an oversized robe wrapped around him. The man looked better, yet looked as if he could eat as much as all of the Weasley boys put together on a good day and still be rail thin.

"You know where he is?"

"Yes," Sirius walked over to the table and slapped down a newspaper clipping before dropping bonelessly into the only vacant chair left. He moaned happily as his stomach growled and ate his first bite of stew.

Harry squinted at the newsprint and looked up at Aberforth to see if he reacted any better than he did. To his utter amusement, Aberforth snorted and read aloud, "Look 10 Years Younger With New Miracle Wrinkle Treatment."

"What?" Sirius looked at the news article, huffed and flipped the piece of newspaper over to show a photograph of a family on vacation.

"That's the Weasleys!" Harry sat forward and pointed them out. "That's Fred, Ron, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Percy and that's George… or that's Fred and the other one is George. I never can tell the twins apart. I suppose those two in the back are the oldest brothers: Charlie and Bill. I never met them."

"And that," Sirius jabbed at the photo again, "Is Wormtail."

"That's Scabbers, Ron's rat."

"That's Peter Pettigrew. He's a rat animagus."

"But he's been in the family for ages according to Ron."

"Twelve years, I'd imagine."

"Rat's live that long?"

"Men do."

"Oh." Harry blinked, "_Oh_!"

* * *

**AN:** So here's the dilemma ... this is all I have. I have no more. Seriously have no clue where this is supposed to go. Hence it being a little orphaned bunny. This scene peaked my interest. I wrote it and then it just ... sat there. *sighs* Well this little bunny is looking for a home. Maybe someone can do something with it.

OH! And if anyone was wondering, yes... the majority of what Stan Shunpike said was taken from the movie.


	8. LV-HP Mentor

**Characters:** Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort

**Idea:** Harry Potter is broken, beaten and just plain tired. He's found by Voldie who raises his wand to kill the kid, but the boy just looks up at him with empty eyes. Voldie twitches and lowers his wand. Mentor story with LV / HP … no slash with those two cuz who in their right mind wants to kiss someone that looks like a snake? Ew.

* * *

The battle between Professor Albus Dumbledore - headmaster of Hogwarts - and Lord Voldemort - self proclaimed Dark Lord, once known as Tom Marvolo Riddle - came to an abrupt halt in the atrium of the Ministry for Magic. The battle had been a rather spectacular display of magical talent, but was only witnessed by Harry Potter - dubbed The-Boy-Who-Lived by the press - and Bellatrix Lestrange née Black - a mentally unstable Death Eater and murderer.

Harry was of two minds. On one hand, Voldemort killed his parents, he was a murderer, snake face, evil git that made his scar burn. On the other hand, Tom was a skilled wizard that could actually stand up to Dumbledore and possibly beat him. Not that he wanted to see the headmaster beaten, the prospect of someone having that ability was simply fascinating to Harry.

While the teen was impressed with the finesse and skill of the elder wizards, his mind was still spinning from his own encounter earlier that evening. Spell fire was shooting everywhere, from allies as well as foes and the Gryffindor was scared out of his wits. Harry was no true soldier. He was just a boy. He tried. He really did. He just didn't seem to have it in him to kill, not even to torture though he said the incantation. Bellatrix was still breathing and there wasn't even a scratch on her nor was she twitching. He lacked the intent.

That's not to say the boy was mentally unstable. Harry had been abused by his extended family as he grew up: physically by his cousin, emotionally by his uncle and neglected by his aunt. His first chance at escape from his living hell was presented to him by an escaped convict who just so happened to be his godfather, Sirius Black.

Now the average teen with a modicum of self-preservation and common sense would have looked at the convicted murderer - that he had just met not an hour earlier - and declined the offer to live with him - once he was cleared of all charges, of course - but our hero was desperate enough to be willing to take the chance on the man.

That offer had been given to him two years ago. Sirius Black was never cleared of any charges and now he was dead. The rescue, the escape, the chance of a normal life had been taken from him by that insane Death Eater crouching across the atrium from the wizarding world's savior. Lucky for the boy, Bellatrix was too enthralled with her master's duel to take full advantage of Harry's inattentiveness in order to kill him. Then again, was that lucky or unlucky? Harry felt a hitch in his chest and his saw Sirius fall into the veil once more. He should have listened to Hermione.

A crash of breaking glass caught his attention. Harry looked up to see a sea of glass shards falling from above. It was beautiful. Glittering glass shards, dancing in what little light offered to the immense room. Harry stood without thought. He stepped forward and reached out. Just one. He needed just one to strike him and it could be over.

Voldemort and Bellatrix had ignored him until he moved. Once he was fully exposed, he was simply begging for a reaction. Harry screamed and he fell to his knees grabbing his forehead. Dumbledore called out for the boy, but he wasn't prepared for what came next.

Harry gasped out a breath, raised his face towards the headmaster and slowly stood. The boy's eyes were glittering red, pain was still etched into his features, but he was no longer screaming. Dumbledore reached out to him, "Harry."

But the boy wasn't listening. He merely spoke, "Kill me." He didn't yell, scream or cry. He simply asked the headmaster to, "Kill me. End it. If death is nothing. End it. Kill me. Kill us."

Bellatrix rose at that moment and held her wand out, pointing it at the headmaster. "Not my master!"

Spells began to fly again. Harry sighed and slumped. The glass shards he had hoped would end him had been turned into daisies. Daisies! The headmaster was brilliant, but he was off his rocker. Harry's head was spinning as he teetered on his feet. Voldemort was no longer in his head. Soon the world spun in a green flash of flames.

Voldemort's voice was in his ear seconds before they crashed out of the floo network, "Tonight, you join your parents in death."


	9. A Xmas Tale with Sev

**Character(s):** Severus Snape

**Idea:** I was writing a chapter for Neville's time travel and mentioned the date aloud to my son. This bunny popped into my son's head and it was such a great one, but unfortunately I haven't a clue what to do with it. So I present him to you:

Twas the Wednesday before Xmas

And all through the castle

All the students were stirring

And boy was it a hassle...

* * *

I stared into the amber liquid and sighed heavily. I hated my life.

The fireplace flared and I frowned. Who could be calling at that late hour? I looked at my time piece and scowled. It was 2200 hrs for bloody sake.

"Severus?"

He knew I was there. I couldn't pretend not to hear him. I couldn't pretend I was asleep. Why hadn't I gone to bed... I broke off my thoughts and approached the fireplace. "Albus?"

"Apparently the children are too wound up about the upcoming holiday and are scattered throughout the halls. Would you mind..."


	10. The Will

**Characters:** Harry Potter, Severus Snape

**Idea:** At age eleven, Harry Potter was summoned to Gringotts for the reading of the wills. Escorted by his godfather and 'adopted' uncle, the young wizard arrived to hear his parents' last wishes. (AU, Father Snape)

**Genre:** Family / Adventure

* * *

**The Will**

Harry James Potter wasn't your average teenager. He wasn't even your average wizard that attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It wasn't that Harry was exceptionally bright or powerful; no, Harry was simply famously known as The-Boy-Who-Lived. Which naturally translated to the boy having an adventurous life which consisted of, but not limited to, the following: protecting his new friend from a troll attack, getting past numerous traps to save the Philosopher's Stone, discovering an animagus thought long dead and freeing his godfather.

And that was all in his first year of school.

The dark haired eleven year old - almost twelve - was currently pulling weeds in his aunt's garden out back of Number 4 Privet Drive. The hot summer sun was beating down on him when an owl swooped down and landed beside his knee, startling the youth from his task.

The hand trowel he was using stopped midair and Harry blinked at the owl. The fowl managed to glare at him - providing owls could glare - as if daring the boy to use that weapon against him. Harry dropped the trowel into the dirt and raised his hands to show he was unarmed. The owl ruffled its feather and stared for a moment before extending its leg.

Harry removed the letter muttering quietly, "Ah, sorry, but I don't have any treats on me. Care for some water from the hose?"

The large brown barn owl turned its back on the wizard once the letter was retrieved, turned its head back at Harry and hooted in disdain before flying off. Harry gave the retreating owl a crooked grin that it didn't see.

The teen wiped dirt from his hand as he inspected the red wax seal on the envelope. The seal wasn't much like the Ministry's. The seal he was currently staring at was a large G wrapped around a goblin's face placed in its center. Around the edge of the seal were the words 'The Bank of Gringotts'. Harry flipped the envelope over once again and noted that it was indeed addressed to him.

"BOY!" The woman's shriek was probably loud enough to be heard throughout Surrey.

Harry's head jerked up at the sound of his beckoning. Naturally Petunia hadn't seen fit to come get him so he could safely stuff the unopened letter into a pocket to keep it hidden. Harry stood while doing his best to wipe off the dirt and grime from his hands and trousers.

He made his way around the side of the house to see what his aunt wanted only to stop in his tracks, "Sirius? Remus?"

The two wizards who stood on the porch were glaring back at an irate Petunia Dursley. Petunia stood firmly in the doorway with her bony arms crossed over her flat chest refusing to allow the two 'freaks' into her home. Remus broke his glare first and grinned at the approaching preteen, "Hello, Harry."

"Hey. What's going on?" Harry slowed his steps as he reached the small gathering.

"Harry!" Sirius apparently finally noticed his godson and pulled the reluctant boy into a rib cracking hug. Harry flailed feebly, unable to do much more since his arms were pinned to his sides, and gasped out something that sounded much like 'air, need air', but the recently released convict was too excited to unhand him.

* * *

**AN:** Like many of my stranded bunnies, the idea was all dressed up with nowhere to go.


	11. Bella & Nym

**Characters**: Bellatrix Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange, Nymphadora Tonks

**Idea**: In order to punish her blood traitor little sister Andromeda, Bellatrix kidnaps (baby or toddler) Nymphadora in order to kill her. Only when Bella finds out that the kid is a metamorphmagus, she changes her mind... decides to raise the girl as her own instead.

Fun with Nym ensues...

This can be either a dark Tonks or gray Bella - depends on the relationship with the kid and how the story plays out - because a good Bella just does not work for me.

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Bellatrix Lestrange née Black had many good traits: pureblood, young, beautiful, strong willed, magically talented, loyalty beyond reason, and (according to my brother ) she was a sexual deviant. Alas mental stability was not one of her stronger characteristics. In some circles it was whispered that insanity was a Black trait. I was watching the results of that madness play out before me.

My name was Rabastan Lestrange, Bast to my family. I was a pureblood wizard, stood a respectable one hundred and eighty three centimeters, with long dark hair, light eyes and a full beard. Bellatrix was married to Rodolphus. My brother looked a lot like I did, or he would if he were to grow his hair long, didn't shave for a few months, was three centimeters taller and two years younger.

I was sitting in one of the arm chairs watching my sister-in-law pace. Normally at this time of day you'd find me in the solarium enjoying the last of the sunshine since winter was coming, but I didn't want to miss the show down. My money was on the barmy one, she always won, it was a sure thing.

As I mentioned Bellatrix was a beautiful young woman (she was twenty-two, only three years younger than me) with her long curly black hair that flew everywhere when she whipped around (I think she called them ringlets or something equally ridiculous), she wore her customary black dress (today's ensemble was form fitting through the torso and flared from her thighs to her calves) and those boots - high heeled and buckled - did wonderful things for her figure. Don't mistake me, I did say she was my sister-in-law, but just because she's family didn't mean I couldn't admire the package. I was just not allowed to touch was all.

Bellatrix strode back and forth in front of the fireplace ranting about her decision and how it was the right choice given the circumstances or some such rot. I stopped listing after she began repeating herself. I could only listen to Bellatrix yakking about a child's name being too Muggle so many times before my ears started to bleed.

For months Bellatrix had been beside herself with righteous indignation over Andromeda's latest insult. Her younger sister not only had the gall to marry a Mudblood, but she gave birth to his spawn. Bellatrix was determined to make the mere chit of a girl pay for the slight.

That morning Bellatrix decided to teach Andromeda a lesson. Her plan was to kill the spawn. Simple right? Yet Bellatrix managed to bodge that up.

I sipped my firewhiskey and waited for Rodolphus to come home. Big brother was not going to be happy with his little wife tonight.

There was a loud bang as the front door was slammed closed. I grinned behind my glass as she hissed and came to a halt. Rodolphus bellowed from the foyer, "Bella!"

Bellatrix whipped around and with one fluid movement she had her wand in hand. By the time my brother hit the door, a silencing spell was hitting him. I chuckled darkly and raised my free hand to the witch while toasting her with my glass to appease her when she quickly turned that wand in my direction. I had no intention of stopping her.

The lump on the couch squirmed. Bellatrix must have seen it too because she bit her bottom lip and peered at it from a safe distance.

Rodolphus was growing angrier by the minute - if his red face was any indication - as he strode into the sitting room silently ranting. The man was truly wound up. Yet the show wasn't moving quickly enough for my taste, so I quickly sent a silent finite at my brother whose voice came back mid-sentence, "-rom your sister!"

I frowned in confusion. There were three Black sisters: Bellatrix, the insane; Andromeda, the outcast; and Narcissa, the youngest. He must have meant Narcissa since I seriously doubted the blood traitor would dare speak to anyone in our circle.

Bellatrix shot me a glare. I grinned unrepentantly at her as the lump squirmed some more and added odd grunting noises. She then hissed at her husband, "Lower your voice. You'll wake her."

That stopped Rodolphus cold. His mouth snapped shut and he slowly processed what he had just been told. I could almost hear the gears turning in his brain as his brows drew together. He had a murderous scowl on his face and my hopes for a blow up was certainly looking good. He looked at his wife with confusion, "You didn't kill it?"

"No, I didn't kill her." Bellatrix confirmed.

Rodolphus growled as he asked, "Why didn't you kill it?"

I took a sip of my firewhiskey and watched expectantly. My sister-in-law didn't let me down. Bellatrix (all one hundred and seventy centimeters of her) stood tall and rigid with a look of disdain as if he had physically struck her. It was such a dramatic pose I was tempted to applaud the woman. Bellatrix pointed at the lump claiming, "Because she's mine now. That's my daughter. I will raise her properly like a true pureblood lady should be and everyone will know her as Nymphadora Lestrange."

I bit back my laugh at the name. I lost it at the look on Rodolphus' face. He had such a look of disgust mixed with incredulity on his face that I couldn't help but laugh. I had to throw a shield up to dodge the dual stinging hexes that came my way, but it was worth it. My brother snarled, "Shut it, Bast."

I held up my hand again and dutifully shut it... or tried. My laughter died away eventually, but come on Nymphadora was hilarious. Granted it was better than Eve which was her name before Bellatrix got a hold of the child. I did mention Bellatrix ranted about the child's name. Rodolphus was staring at the lump and asked, "Why?" His voice was low and menacing, "Tell me why I shouldn't just kill the half-blood and dump the body back to the blood traitor like you originally planned?"

Bellatrix pulled the blanket off of the lump to expose the toddler curled up beneath it and pointed at her, "She's a metamorphmagus, Rod!"

My nose twitched. The sight of the little girl made my palms sweat. I itched to grab my wand and hex the little blighter. Rodolphus sneered and hissed, "She's a half-blood!"

"She won't be as soon as we blood adopt her," Bellatrix said triumphantly.

I hated to think it, but I didn't want Bellatrix to win this one. I knew she would. Rodolphus couldn't deny her anything. My brother was madly in love with his wife and there was nothing he wouldn't do for her, give her or kill for her, but we were talking about a baby: a miniature person that cried, threw up and pooped.

Rodolphus sighed and looked down at the child, "How soon can we do it?"

I sighed, finished my drink and walked out of the room. Just once. Just once I wished Rodolphus had the balls to stand up to his wife. Maybe it was time I moved out of the manor.

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**AN:** This story takes place in 1973 which makes Bella 22 and Nymphadora isn't quite a toddler really since (according to the Wiki page) she was born in 1973. I originally thought this would be a funny / fun bunny to nurture, but as you see it really didn't work out for me. This story got weird and creepy because Rabastan took over the telling. I mean, he's perving on his SIL ... not that she'd give him the time of day, but still... creepy!

So I had to stop writing because I got a HUGE case of the ick, mostly because it is in first person and that means he'd be perving **_in my head over her_**... okay sure, Helena Bonham Carter is a beautiful woman, but I have to draw the line somewhere!

I'm hoping to find a different angle for this bunny and maybe eek out a story (short or chaptered), but it may just wallow here with the adoptees. *sighs*


End file.
